


Suggestion

by pok3d3x



Series: Fireside Chats [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Magic, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Emotional Roller Coaster, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pok3d3x/pseuds/pok3d3x
Summary: In a world where mind altering magic is cheap, it's unwise to drink alone. The Mighty Nein step in to protect Caleb a little late.This is rated Mature and Non-Con/Dub-Con for the emotional implications and ramifications and whatcouldhave happened more so than what does transpire physically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little heads up, if you couldn't guess by the tags, this is a dark fic. Please take care of yourself and don't read on if you think it might be too much to handle.
> 
> This is largely split between me dealing with and processing things that have happened in my life and to people I care about, and feeling that fantasy doesn't pay enough attention to how _terrifying_ the concept of love potions and related mind altering magic is. There _is_ a second chapter, and it should be up within an hour, that is very focused on the recovery side of things.

Their ears still rang from taking on the banshee, but it had been rather simple assignment they picked up from the board in Zadesh. Good pay, better spoils, and no casualties; tonight was a night to celebrate.

The Might Nein were back at The Leaky Tap, and it was a busy night, making it easy to settle in and forget about being an adventuring party, and focus on just partying. Jester and Nott were playing tricks on the other patrons, Nott's sticky fingers careful to stick only to the "grumpy people". Molly watched on with an amused grin and lighthearted commentary from a nearby table.

The table just an arm's reach away from Molly had Yasha supporting Beau, who perhaps was too spirited in drinking after today's battle. She was the one who had taken the brunt of the banshee's attacks, and been the least able to hurt the creature, and had proclaimed the second it fell that she planned on getting smashed tonight. Well, she was living up to her word, and Yasha was amusedly looking after her making sure she didn't get too drunk.

Fjord came back to Molly with two tankards in hand and offered one.

"Ah, you didn't have to, my friend," Molly said, though he took the proffered drink quickly enough. Only Yasha noticed him flip a silver deftly into Fjord's pocket.

"I insist. You saved my skin today," Fjord said with a full smile. He sat down beside the tiefling and looked about for the human that had gone missing in his short journey to the bar. Caleb had been with Jester and Nott urging discretion.

Molly noticed Fjord's glancing about and said," He's over there."

Fjord looked in the direction Molly pointed out and saw Caleb hunched over the magical tome they'd found on their mission today, ale mostly abandoned at the small table he'd found himself.

He laughed and said," I do believe I bet he couldn't last an hour." Fjord held out a hand and a gold was quickly placed in it.

"I really thought he'd spend more time fretting over Nott," Molly said with a shrug. 

"Oh, if she was in any bad sort, he'd be right back over here," Fjord agreed," But he knows she's safe with Jester, with us."

"I suppose we've come along way," Molly mused. They'd still only been together two months—not long at all in the grand scheme of things. Sure, that was a thirteenth of his life from his point of view, but he knew Caleb and Nott had many years to grow distrustful of anything and anyone around them.

"We all have," Fjord agreed. "Just look at how close Yasha and Beau are… sitting." Fjord tagged on the last word awkwardly, still not sure what was happening between the two.

They _were_ leaned into each other, though that was largely because Beau had started swaying a handful of minutes ago. What else could someone so slight expect from starting the night with five shots? Yasha had matched every shot and drink thus far, but she was still a pillar of stability.

"This little troupe is really a miracle," Molly said, then took a long swig of his ale. "It's still not the circus, and nothing will replace that, but just think… How different we all are… We make it work."

Fjord followed suit with a drink of his firewhiskey. "What did you call us that one night? A ragtag band of disheveled misfits? You were right."

"Ah, yes, by the fire. To be fair… after that encounter with the pixies, we were certainly bedraggled. I think that's why it works, though, the ragtag bit. Imagine a group of people all like Caleb or Jester."

Fjord laughed dryly. "Or a group of Nott's… Or _you_."

"Perish the thought," Molly said with a good natured laugh. "We'd be squabbling over who has the best tattoos and fighting over the best coats in any boutique we may happen across."

They chuckled together and continued their lighthearted conversation, drinking at a slow, conversational speed. 

Beau had slowed down too, mostly at the insistence of Yasha, who could tell if she kept it up, she'd be out for the count in under an hour. She gave a drunken squeal of glee as a familiar cat jumped into her lap, and excitedly informed Yasha of their good fortune as if the barbarian wasn't sitting right beside her and largely holding her upright.

"Oh, Frumpkin, you're such a good boy, oh sweetie," Beau began cooing as she rubbed his head and pet him excitedly. She slowed her affection as she heard the plaintive cries the cat in her lap was making. "Babyyy, what's wrooong…?" In her stupor she couldn't see anything that should obviously bother the cat.

Yasha let Beau lean away as she was swayed to pet the cat, and looked up at the wizard who should be seeing to his needs. Caleb was talking with a stranger, some beautiful elf who had his hair braided back to show off a tattooed neck. It seemed benign enough—many met strangers at bars and began conversations—but something struck Yasha as wrong. _Caleb_ didn't meet strangers and talk with them, not like that. She could recall the way he flinched from conversation when she and Molly had approached their tables to convince them to come to the circus. He spoke to strangers, sure, but he didn't look at them like _that_.

Still—she didn't want to cause a huge commotion when it could all be very easily explained away, so she left Beau to Frumpkin and made her way to Molly and Fjord.

"Does Caleb seem… friendly?" She asked, her voice low and heavy, lacking emotion in contrast to the slight tension in her brow.

"Caleb is a nice enough man, when you finally break through the first seven walls to his tragic backstory," Molly joked, wondering what Yasha could be talking about.

"My point exactly."

Molly's eyes jumped up to the far corner Caleb had holed up in, and what he saw brought a disconcerted scowl to his face. "That doesn't seem like our good wizard at all," he muttered. A rise of, perhaps it was jealousy—not that he was or expected a relationship out of the man, but it had taken two months and Caleb still tensed under his forehead kisses and shoulder pats, which he only really opened up to a month ago—rose in the pit of Molly's stomach.

"Someone should check on him. I'm all for him having a good time, but…" Fjord trailed off. It had to be a little rude to imply that something had to be wrong if he was obviously happy.

"I got this," Molly assured both of them, placing a hand over Yasha's soothingly. "I'll check in on him."

Molly pushed himself up and looked back to the scene he was about to interrupt. It looked like Caleb was almost done with his current ale from how far he had to tip it back after a sweet laugh at whatever his companion said. Deciding on his way into the conversation, Molly stopped at the bar and ordered whatever brew his friend was having and made his way over.

"Caleb," he greeted warmly as he approached.

"Oh, um, hello," Caleb replied, suddenly reserved. He shot a glance over to his conversation partner, as if asking if the other minded the intrusion—or perhaps to marvel at an interloper breaking into their private conversation. Molly certainly felt like the stranger here, not this elven man who had a charismatic smile that put his own to shame.

"Mollymauk," he introduced, holding a hand out to the elf. Caleb and the other just stared at his hand.

"I think the tielfing is lost," the elf commented, and it got a charmed laugh out of Caleb, a full unapologetic laugh that made the hairs on Molly's neck stand on end. 

"I think you may be right," Caleb said, then sighed as he propped his hand on his chin and looked to elf with hooded eyes. "We could get lost, if you liked."

"Caleb—"

The wizard looked to Molly and scoffed," I'm sorry, but do I know you? I'm trying—"

"I'm—I—" Molly looked closer and saw an unfocused glaze to Caleb's eyes. "I'm sorry, I overheard your name and I thought you were the Caleb from my carney days. My mistake."

As Caleb and the elf stole a glance towards each other to laugh at Molly's expense, Molly quickly chugged his ale to bring it to the level he estimated Caleb's to be at and surreptitiously switched them. One didn't get good at card tricks without working on their sleight of hand, and one didn't get good at directing folks without the use of misdirection. Neither of the seated men noticed as he switched the tankards and quickly absconded with what he suspected to be some sort of potion.

"Nott," he urgently called as he slammed the tankard on her and Jester's table. "Something's… something's wrong with Caleb." His heart was hammering and he realized he was getting ready for a fight. Yasha already had a hand on her sword and her sharp eyes trained on their wizard. He could afford to plot with the others; she would rush in if there was immediate danger.

She must have whispered something to Beau about what was going on while he was doing his checking, because Beau was now nursing a water and trying to look more alert. Failing, but trying all the same.

Fjord was looming over his shoulder as soon as Molly made it back, expecting his report.

"You know things about potions. I've seen you mix things before. I think this ale is laced with something. Caleb… Caleb didn't know who I was, and he—something has him head over heels for that stranger. What's in this drink?"

Nott took the drink and sniffed it, frowning for a second before turning it bottom's up into her mouth.

Molly looked on with a flat expression. "Well, I could have done that…"

"Nothing tastes out of sorts… Well, I mean. That is a rather overpowering taste of coriander," Nott said, looking down into her drink.

"There's no coriander in the ale here," Jester said, doubtful. "Let me see that."

Nott looked up to hand the drink over, but as her eyes met Jester's, she flinched back with a stifled giggle. "U-uh, sure, if you'd like it, Jester." She averted her eyes, a dopey grin coming to her gnarled, toothy mouth.

"Nott?"

Jester took the tankard and noticed how Nott's hand stayed longer than it needed to. Brow furrowing, she brought the the drink to her nose and inhaled the scent. "Shit," she growled as she smelled the coriander and the rose petals. "Shit shit shit shit…"

"What is it, Jester?"

"This has a philter in it," she said, worry consuming her. "It's an illegal potion that we had wards up to detect back at my mom's brothel."

Molly gawked at this reveal. "Philter? Now you certainly can't mean Philter of Love?"

"I'm afraid so. It's a nasty, horrible potion. It's not lovely at all."

"We have to get Caleb out of there," Yasha said as she came forward, propping up Beau who was insisting to join the conversation.

"Yeah, we can't let…" Beau was slurring and briefly became unintelligible. "Clayebub—fuck—Caleb can't be left—It's not safe, like at all."

"You're right," Fjord agreed, eyes drifting to the man that must have slipped the philter into Caleb's drink. A sudden pang of understanding prickled across his brain, almost painful in its abruptness. "That man… he has magic like me," Fjord whispered. "Not the same, exactly, but he's powerful."

"How do you know," Molly asked, trying to identify an arcane air about the man.

"He has a focus. An arcane focus, but I can't tell what to. I just—It kind of clicked somehow. He's mighty dangerous."

"Well, good thing there's more of us than him, then," Yasha said plainly.

Jester fanned the air to convey, _shut up_. "Enough talking, you guys. That man is about to steal away with our smelly wizard."

"Not on my watch," Yasha and Molly said at the same time, stepping forward in sync. Family was to be protected, and they had agreed. This new family was every bit as important to them as the last and they would fight tooth and nail to keep it safe.

Fjord was close on their heels, and Jester was blessing Nott, who seemed to melt at her touch. "We have to save our friend, okay, Nott?"

"Anything you say, Jester. I'll save that human for you!"

It made everyone uneasy to hear Nott speak so unconcerned about Caleb's personal welfare.

They definitely needed to intervene now, if not twenty minutes ago.

"Hey, asshole," Beau said, pretty smoothly as they came up to the two at the back of the bar. It had to be the familiarity with the words that let her speak them so clearly as wrecked as she was. "Step away from our friend."

Caleb pointed to himself in confusion and asked," Y-you mean me?" He was practically shrinking back into his scarf at their intimidating entrance.

"You would be the friend, Caleb," Jester assured.

"I assure you, he doesn't know any of you. We were just talking about how he came alone…" He rose his eyebrows and finished," and we might leave together…"

"Like hell you will," Beau grit out, only sloshing two of the words together. 

"Indeed, you will not," Yasha said quietly pulling her sword out and preparing to battle.

Fjord put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's avoid jumping to lethal force," he suggested.

She shrugged and sheathed her sword once more. That moment of time was enough of a distraction, and shadows congealed at her head, forming a ragged iron crown. Fjord backed away with a shout of concern, knowing exactly what was happening. "Yasha, no—!"

She bolted at Caleb, him being the closest now, and tried to get a square punch to connect with his jaw. She only barely hit him, knocking his teeth a little loose, and she heard an angry cry come from behind her. As she looked back, she saw Nott shooting in her direction, screaming," No one hurts my boy!" Nott's eyes were once again unclouded, but Yasha as she was now, could not appreciate it.

Yasha was ready to take the bolt to the chest, but Beau lunged in and caught it, then sent the bolt careening towards the interloper.

"Why don't we focus on hitting the bad guy, and restraining our friend," Jester shouted. "Enough hitting each other."

"Sorry," Nott panicked," I just c-came back to, and I saw him being hurt—"

"We'll all apologize later, and I'm sure it will be heartwarming and beautiful," Molly said, rushing in towards Caleb. " _You know and trust me, Caleb_ ," he spoke infernally, hoping to charm him. Caleb would understand later; it was better to be charmed by your friends than by your enemies.

His hope that his spell had overode whatever was already affecting Caleb fizzled as he saw the other fish out a diamond and begin casting a spell. He was prepared as three orbs of fire hit him in the chest, and though he was resistant, it still burned painfully.

He heard a wet sound behind him, someone slicing through another, and he hoped that if their foe went down, so would the spell effect. Jester came up from behind Caleb and put him into a half nelson, and Molly realized Caleb would continue to try roasting them. He sprung forward and shoved Caleb's scarf into his mouth and pulled tight. Between Jester's restraint and Molly's gag, Caleb was helpless.

Helpless to save the one he thought he loved.  
The muffled scream, utter despair warbling though, sent a chill down Molly's back. He heard a body drop behind him, and from how Caleb continued to scream and the tears streaming down his face, Molly knew they were victorious. "I'm so sorry, Caleb. I'm so very sorry for how you must be feeling right now."

Caleb's knees buckled, and Jester eased him to the ground. Molly didn't have the heart to keep him gagged as he sobbed, and he let his grip loosen. A fire bolt was his thanks, and someone else took over gagging him. Molly sank back and tried so hard not to listen to the muffled Zemnian curses, the hatred and pain and desolation his friend was going through right now.

A large, powerful hand dropped into his sight, and he begrudgingly took Yasha's hand up to standing and sank into a rare, public embrace. Pale light sparked and diffused over his form and he felt marginally better—he had taken quite a surprising amount of damage that fight.

"I-if he can't use his hands, he can't use fire bolt," Nott suggested. 

"Let's get him tied up in our room, then," Yasha calmly said, her voice rumbling softly in her throat and sending calming shivers through Molly's horns. She had her chin resting between them so he could feel every word she said, just like he needed sometimes late at night when the nightmares wouldn't leave him alone.

"You do that, I—uh, will deal with law enforcement," Fjord said. "Yasha, you think you can take care of that? I think Jester's input might help us out."

She let go of Molly to handle the now thrashing wizard, who's angry whipping about seemed pathetic in her capable hold. Molly felt cold and bereft, but he understood the necessity. As he began to lead the way, he felt a tiny, clawed hand take his. The hand could only curl over the first two fingers of his considerably average hand, so he knew it was Nott before he looked down.

"Thank you," she mumbled, clearly a little shocked and withdrawn herself. "Thank you for n-noticing… I—I—was b-busy playing around… I d-didn't notice…" Her voice was taught, and she was clearly close to tears.

Molly squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Hey, now, love. Caleb's alright now. It was Yasha who noticed first, but we're all here for him. He's going to be okay."

"You're better than I thought," Nott said unabashedly.

Molly took it as the glowing compliment she meant it. He felt a strong quiver wrack her, and he could tell looking at Caleb struggle in Yasha's grapple was making her freeze up. "Hey, want to ride my shoulders," he offered as she slowed down. 

She nodded, her lips now trembling too hard to speak. He scooped her up and let her clamber his shoulders deftly, a little impressed with how quickly she clamped on and found a secure hold with her legs. He could make do with limited breathing, he decided, but he did advise," Feel free to hold onto the base of the horns, but mind the jewelry. I know precise number of piercings and such I have."

A heavy silence settled, and Molly broke it with," I'm wearing eight pieces right now."

"…Sorry…"

He felt one of his bands be placed back over his horn and the hinge snap so it was secured in place. Hopefully Caleb returned to them so easily.


	2. Chapter 2

It took almost forty minutes for Caleb to stop wailing at the loss of his one true love, and the silence was worse. He sat there, eyes unfocused, almost as catatonic as back in the mines.

They were taking rounds watching after him, seeing if he'd fall out of whatever spell he was under. If he didn't, they planned to set out in the morning to find a wizard's assistance.

"You know me, _ja?_ " Caleb asked out of the blue, startling the tiefling looking after him.

"I'd say I do. You don't like water, you've been bitten by fire, and nothing settles you like a good read," Molly replied. "We'd give you a book if you wouldn't burn me to a crisp soon as we unbound you."

Caleb gave a measured nod. "You must be the people I came with then."

He looked up in time to see Molly's curious tilt of the head.

"That… spellcaster… He cast something on me and told me to forget who I came with and incinerate any who attacked us," Caleb explained, his voice uncharacteristically apathetic. "He wanted the book I was reading—did we grab the book I was reading…? It was important… Why he sought me out."

The sudden urgency in his voice as he asked after the book fell flat once he returned to the subject of the man who wanted it.

"Fjord, uh, the green one—tall green one—grabbed it," Molly informed Caleb, which seemed to impart some small peace. "If he wanted the book, and he could instruct you to follow his word, why didn't he just ask you to give him the book?"

Caleb let out a sob, but it was different than the earlier cries. This small sob wasn't desperate and despairing—it was shocked, lacking force behind it.

"You don't have to answer," Molly assured, letting his voice drop low and comforting. "We're going to get you help tomorrow. If this whole thing doesn't clear up on its own."

"How… would it clear up on its own?" Caleb asked, edging on low boiling anger. "H-he—" Another strangled gasp for air. "He drugged me. He wanted the book, but he wanted to have me first. He was telling me all about it," Caleb spat through gritted teeth, voice rising. "I just went along with it—I was pleased to hear it—as he described how he took my free will away and could do whatever he wanted with me, and so long as he timed things right, walk off with the book as well."

They had to bind him, and Molly knew that, but it hurt to see how badly Caleb wanted to pull at his hair or rub his face, whatever his coping mechanism to this much stress may be, and how his arms pulled at the restraints fruitlessly.

"You're right, we can't fix it, but we'll be here for you."

"Like you were when he slipped that love potion in my drink," Caleb asked venomously.

Molly's lips pursed, but he couldn't argue Caleb's anger. He was right to be angry; he was wronged and violated, and the Mighty Nein hadn't been there for him until it was so late. He hoped Caleb would forgive him later, but if he didn't and this venting was the only modicum of relief Caleb could salvage, Molly would dutifully take the brunt of it without complaint.

"How could this happen? How could this…? I had… I had companions," Caleb reasoned, even if he couldn't remember them. "All it took was a few words, and they were gone, I was alone, and I couldn't protect myself. I lost everything," he stuttered out, his voice high with incredulousness.

"We made a mistake. You like to be alone after a big fight sometimes, and we let you. We didn't protect you. I'm sorry."

"I don't want your apologies," Caleb hissed, but his voice had lost steam. It came out desparate as he near begged," I-I wan't control. I want my memories back. All it took was a few words…"

 _All it took was a few words…_ and Molly's breath came short. He let his his shoulders rise as his chest should be inflating—no he should breathe deeper, try to bring the diaphragm into it—but no breath felt like it was entering his throat. He gasped for breath, even though he should be able to breathe just fine.

"Mollymauk?" Caleb's voice sounded the most familiar it had all night, but looking into his eyes, it was clear he still didn't remember. _All it took were a few words_ and he didn't remember. 

_All it took were a few words_ and maybe Molly wouldn't remember. He wouldn't know. He wouldn't be himself anymore, and Lucien would reclaim this body— _but he liked this body. He liked who he was. He wanted to stay._

As abruptly as his breathing became laborious, the taste of dirt filled his mouth. If there was something Molly _wanted_ to forget, it was the taste of one's shallow grave collapsing in on them, and the feeling of digging oneself out with nothing but bloodying fingernails. Oh, gods above—Almighty Moonweaver—he didn't want to cough up dirt like Fjord did seawater. He wanted everything to be normal, and his friend to be reading books happily, and not to be having a panic attack, or have to see Caleb watch a complete stranger have a panic attack with a slack jaw and taught brow.

"I'm fine," Molly wheezed, which he regretted because words ate up oxygen.

 _All it took were a few words_ and things seemed to progress from bad to worse. Molly felt no air coming through and his attempts at breathing were turning into shrieking gasps. He thought Caleb might be shouting, but he didn't know if it was at him or for help. He couldn't hold himself up, collapsing to the floor because his arms were now shaking so noticeably. The walls seemed so close.

Large hands enveloped his shoulders and hoisted him to his feet. Those same hands kept him upright even though his legs were jelly.

"Molly, listen to me," a smooth, calm voice broke through. "We can't break down here. We're going to go to my room, and we're going to breathe."

Molly shook his head. "C-Caleb… needs… s-some…"

"He doesn't need to see you like this. Jester is coming."

Molly nodded. Yasha always made so much sense. 

She lead him out, and he did his best to walk with her, but he was a bumbling mess and she had to hold him tight to keep him upright. Molly hit his horn of the doorway, and he had an inkling that pain would blossom through his skull at some point, but he felt nothing right now other than the rapid beating of his heart, the burning in his lungs, and Yasha's strong arms around him.

She lead him to her room, dark and empty, and he tensed as they entered. "It's okay," she told him. "I'm here with you, and I won't leave your side."

He faintly nodded, squeezing his loose hold on her midsection. They sat on the edge of a bed, and she held him close, touching their foreheads together. "Breathe with me," she instructed, breathing in loudly and slowly. He shakily tried to comply.

It took minutes—which felt like hours when one couldn't breathe— before his breathing evened out, and he felt exhausted and stupid. What a time to have a panic attack. While he was guarding his amnesiac friend that needed support after such a personal tragedy.

He must have shaken his head in a vaguely self-deprecating way, because Yasha assured him," You couldn't have expected this would happen. He'll be okay." She knew him, how he thought, where his mind went, so well.

"Yeah, but—" Molly's fight left him as she breathed in to speak. He valued what she had to say too much to not listen.

"From his perspective a complete stranger had to be walked out the room. Either he doesn't care and isn't burdened by what he saw, or he does care, and he's on his way to becoming our friend again."

Yasha rarely spoke, and the others sometimes commented on it like she didn't care enough, was too aloof, or was too mysterious. She rarely spoke, but when she did, it meant something. He carely moved so his horn only brushed her cheek as he leaned his chin on her shoulder and hugged her with all his might.

She deepened the hug, and they sat like that for a while, Yasha still guiding his breathing from time to time.

It was a few hours later when the door to Yahsa's room creaked open, and Jester's voice came in quietly," Caleb's asking to see you."

Yasha answered for him, her steady voice filling the room even though she spoke quietly. "Molly doesn't need to talk more with someone who can't remember him." It was a little harsh and mean towards Caleb, perhaps, but it was true.

"Oh, but Caleb does remember. He remembers everything. It was just a really long spell, like the kind that last for an hour, but much longer."

Molly's arms loosened from the hug and he tentatively pulled away, looking to Jester slowly. "If Caleb wishes to see me, who am I to tell him no?" He couldn't help but turn the charm on, smile to Jester like he was back in his role of finding any random person he saw interesting and possibly interested in his services.

Yasha's hand rubbed his back smoothly, and Molly remembered he could say no. He could stay here in the dark and just breathe in slowly and breathe out slower, if that's what he wanted. "I would love to see him," he said a lot more sincerely.

"Oh, good," Jester said as she took that as permission to enter the room and quickly ran over to grab his hand and pull him to his feet. "He's in a mood even stinkier than him."

He let her drag him, his feet falling a little chaotically to keep up when he had been barely capable of walking just hours before. His tail lashed to try and balance himself.

She sent a stiff-arm forward to burst the door open and announce their arrival, and Molly found it overwhelming, but went with it as a showman himself. He placed a bent leg in front of himself and bowed, a modified curtsey from his carney days. His heart thrummed, but playing like this made the situation at hand so much easier to deal with, so he used the wrist she currently held to twist so his hand now held hers and pulled her into to a twirl.

"We have arrived," he announced, as dramattically as Jester, but with more finesse.

"I see that," Caleb said, a bit impressed by the flourish of Jesters dress and the ease of movement bursting into his room. "Do I get a dinner with the show?"

"Would you actually eat?"

Molly looked down to the source of the small, raspy voice, and saw that Caleb was holding Nott close. He was holding her, with unbound arms and familiarity that two months hadn't brought Molly's way. He must be feeling better.

"Hey, before you zone out and drop me, maybe we should wrap this dance up," Jester whispered loudly. 

Molly let his gaze drop to her and he smiled. "Yes, my dear, thank you for coming to get me." With a simple twirl he had her standing of her own power once more and bowed to her. She giggled and curtsied before making her leave. Nott hugged Caleb so hard, Molly was momentarily afraid Caleb would be the next to lose the power to breathe, but then broke away and left the room as well.

That left the two of them alone, and Molly's legs began to feel weak again. He hid it easily, sashaying to the bed and sitting. He couldn't help that hiding things with dramatic flair was his go to. It made him feel a little silly with Caleb sitting on the floor in the heap they'd left him upon first bringing him here.

"I'm sorry we let that happen to you. I'm sorry—"

"Molly," Caleb interrupted him, and the familiarity he said his name with burned brightly in Molly's chest. It felt so good to hear him speak and know that he knew his friends. "You really don't have to apologize. I said some mean spirited things before, but… I wasn't myself. _I'm sorry_."

"You said nothing out of line. You were upset, but you have every right to be."

Silence fell over them, and it left Molly time to wonder what Caleb had asked him here for. It couldn't have just been such a simple apology that could have waited till morning. "Do you want to join me?" He asked, patting the bed beside himself. The little recall into the present world was sometimes needed with Caleb, who tended to get lost in his own mind.

He looked up, and looked ready to refuse the offer which Molly honestly expected. After a moment's consideration, he pushed himself to his feet and ambled over, collapsing on the bed beside Molly, supporting hand rather close to Molly's.

"I…" Caleb breathed in deeply then whispered something to himself in Zemnian. "I am sorry, though, and I want to apologize. Had I known… _remembered_ … I would not have spoken as I did. It had to be… hard for you to hear, and the last moments as I was panicking about losing my memories… Had to be so difficult for you to listen to. I'm so sorry I put you through that."

Molly laughed, and Caleb looked up to him with surprise. "You mean, if you had remembered, you wouldn't have mentioned to me how you forgot?" His tone was patronizing, and it made Caleb blush, but he needed to lighten the mood for Caleb's sake.

" _Ja…._ "

Molly cupped Caleb's cheek, rubbing his thumb through the patchy facial hair. A knowing smirk was on his lips and he said quietly," Caleb, it is really fine. Were I not already tired after a long day, I would have been able to take your words, and hopefully say something encouraging in response."

Caleb couldn't maintain eye contact and let his gaze falter back to the bed. The hand on his face was so warm, it was impossible to maintain a thought about anything else. Molly was there for him, and after his brush with the unthinkable, Caleb wanted—needed—something and he didn't quite know what.

Licking his lips and looking Molly in the eyes, he whispered," May I kiss you?"

The hunger in his voice, the way he put his hand over Molly's, it was difficult for Mollymauk to disentangle himself and calmly say," No."

Caleb sputtered and looked stricken, and Molly brought their joined hands down between them and squeezed. "If you ask me again in a couple of days, if you still want to when the dust has settled, I will answer differently. I won't compound tonight by letting you act on harried hormones and the fleeting high of survival."

"B-but… I—" Tears welled in Caleb's eyes. "I need—"

"Control," Molly said. "I know. I understand, but this isn't how."

"Is it because I'm…? My father used to say you can judge a man best by how he treats people least important to them. When I didn't know who you were… I said things I shouldn't."

"I don't have a father, but Gustav once told me when the truth stings that's when you need to hear it the most. I didn't take what you said as mean, I took it to heart."

Tears were beginning to gather enough to slide down his cheek, and Caleb withdrew his hand so he could run it through his greasy hair. Molly leaned closer and began to rub small circles on his back, and his crying only picked up.

"I'm sorry, Caleb."

"I want the taste of his lips gone."

"A shot of firewhiskey then. I'll be here. I'll keep you safe."

"No—No, that isn't enough. My memory is _perfect_. I can't forget."

Molly bit back the bad advice that popped into his head. It didn't matter how good someone's memory was if they blacked out and couldn't remember the night. Caleb didn't need uncertainty added to a vaguely recounted time of when he lost all autonomy though. "In a few days," he said softly," In a few days we can do anything you're willing to asking for."

He wanted Caleb, he had wanted Caleb for a long time, but he wasn't going to use him when he was vulnerable. He would never use anyone in their time of need, even if he found them so attractive, so fascinating, so—dear Moonweaver, he hoped Caleb asked again when he was clear minded. 

"I won't be brave enough," Caleb said, a hint of dejection in his voice.

"Then we'll just have to wait. And I will. As long as you need."

"Thank you for intervening, for realizing something was wrong," Caleb said after a long silence. He sighed with something like relief as Molly took both his hands and held them on his lap. "Tonight was… Tonight was so bad, but it could have been worse." He rested his head on Molly's shoulder and let a wracking sigh shiver through him.

"It was Yasha who noticed first," Molly found himself repeating as he had informed Nott. He had to dismiss their misdirected praise. He was embarrassed he'd bet on when Caleb would leave them for the night, and the next time he thought about him, it was after Yasha pointed out something was wrong. He should have been paying attention—

"Thank all of you for acting on her words, then," Caleb modified.

"We all did. We all are here for you."

"I didn't know to be scared. Not then, I wasn't able to be, but now…"

Molly released one hand—and Caleb's now free hand immediately gripped his knee with white knuckles—and ran his fingers through Caleb's hair. "This is a perfectly fine time to let those feelings you couldn't feel then wash over you. You're safe now. I'm holding you and you're safe, and Yasha is making sure no stranger enters our room."

It started as a warbled groan, and it slowly grew to proper sobs. It was free of the philter's affects, and it was the cries of someone who trusted the person they were crying on the shoulder of. It was Caleb, through and through, and Molly continued to soothe his friend the couple of hours it took for the sun to rise.


End file.
